Between Friends
by Min Daae
Summary: Mat and Birgitte get very drunk and do some things that they later regret. They attempt to forget about each other, but Mat finds himself increasingly attracted to a woman who was previously just a friend. MatBirgitte, R&R! COMPLETE!
1. Night and Morning After

_A/N: Another Wheel of Time fic! I feel like I'm on a roll. This fic is primarily humor with some romance tossed in. …not much to say, so here is the fic – please, if you get through this, drop a review by. Not so hard, is it? Beslan, Mat, and Birgitte wandering the streets of Ebou Dar during…that one festival that I can't name right now. Feast of something. But anyway._

The dice were rattling around in Mat's skull and giving him a killer headache. That was worrying, but so was the fact that Beslan was squinting around looking for anyone with a knife that he might be able to fight. He had thought that those Cairhienin were touchy, but they had nothing on Ebou Dar-ans.

But why was he worrying, anyway? Since when had he worried about the well being of anyone but himself? Before, if Beslan got in a fight, Mat would have cheered him on while staying out of the way. But now, it seemed that all he did was worry. Maybe all he needed to do was relax for a day. He looked over at Birgitte, attracting every male eye for one hundred yards around in her skimpy feathers. Though, perhaps these two weren't the best pair to attempt relaxing with.

Mat moaned slightly. He wished those bloody dice would stop using his skull as a dice cup. They felt like they should be some sort of help, but he never knew what they were warning him of until it happened. It did him no good to have premonitions he couldn't understand. Somebody whistled rather conspicuously at Birgitte, but she ignored him, glancing at Mat. "Not my type," she murmured at Mat's raised eyebrow. The man was handsome, but that was Birgitte. She had an odd fetish for ugly men.

She nudged his elbow and pointed at a plump woman wearing less than herself. "That's a nice one," she said. Birgitte was always doing that – pointing out women that were attractive as though she were another man. He looked over at her. She noticed him looking and grinned. She brought the feathered mask up to her face and began to sashay over to their posse. Mat would normally have been interested, but his head hurt too much right now. He did not feel like fraternizing with women. Well, Birgitte was a woman, but she hardly counted. She was just a friend. In fact, considering her tastes, Mat thought that he would have been offended if she found him attractive.

"I need to go get a drink," he muttered to the pair surrounding him. "Coming?" He ducked into the nearest tavern and hoped that the hopeful woman wouldn't follow. He walked over to the bartender and was about to ask for wine, but then he thought better of it. "Ale," he said. "Your strongest." The bartender glanced at him crosswise for some reason and then hurried off. Moments later he returned, shoving a mug of dark brown liquid over the counter. Mat picked it up and drained it in one swallow, then put it down on the counter expectantly. The man stared at him but poured him another mug. Mat felt someone behind him and twisted to see Birgitte leaning over his shoulder.

"I'll take the same thing he had," she said. The bartender, shaking his head, walked away and returned with another mug. Mat looked around for Beslan and didn't see him anywhere.

"Where's Beslan?" he asked Birgitte, his speech already slightly slurred. That ale was _good. _

"Wandering the streets," Birgitte said after draining her mug and asking for another. The bartender looked impressed in spite of himself. It seemed like Beslan should have worried Mat, but already he was feeling somewhat beyond concern. The dice were still rattling all too audibly, however. He drained another mug. The bartender already had two more ready and shoved both of them at Mat. He drained the first in one gulp, but the second one took a little longer. His eyes were getting a bit unfocused. Birgitte shifted back and forth slightly as she drained another mug.

Mat lost track of the next three glasses. He got up and danced a little bit with some of the girls. He twirled the last one away, stumbling slightly – he was very dizzy – and found himself with his arms around Birgitte's waist. Her feathers were slightly askew. "How are they stuckon?" He slurred at her, tugging drunkenly at one of them. Birgitte giggled. The sane part of his mind wondered at that. Birgitte! She never giggled! But the larger part of his brain, currently extremely muddled, enjoyed the feeling of her skin as she pressed up against him, her eyes level with his. That was nice. Mostly, he had to look down at women, though he was short as men went. He hadn't held a woman like this, except for bloody Queen bloody Tylin, since he had become her "duckling."

She leaned her head over, resting it in the side of his neck as she whispered, "Glue." Her voice was even more slurred than his. Birgitte did not have a very large tolerance for beer – well, smaller than his anyway, though that was not saying much. He laughed drunkenly, swerving slightly as he dragged her off the dance floor over to a corner. He was too drunk to dance.

"Do they come off?" he asked flirtatiously, toying with one of them as he pulled her closer. There was something odd about that, but he couldn't remember what it was. He waved at the bartender for two beers and swallowed down one of them before handing the other to Birgitte.

"I don't know," she responded as she sipped her beer delicately. "You could try and find out." Mat laughed again, reeling slightly. The room swayed and tipped.

"Come here," he said. "I'm too drunk to walk." He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her close. She giggled and ran her fingers through his hair.

"You would look better if you grew your hair out," she said. "And you should take a shower. You stink."

He laughed again and kissed the side of her neck, impulsively. She giggled and pressed up against him. "Showers are for dandies," he whispered in her ear. Then, on another impulse, he moved his head around and kissed her as hard as he dared. She seemed surprised for a moment, then returned the kiss. When he let go, she giggled and grabbed his hand, panting as he was, only partly from exertion. He followed her without a fuss, up the stairs and into a room. Birgitte slammed the door behind her. The last thing he remembered coherently was that Birgitte looked very fine with her clothes off.

* * *

Mat woke up sharply. The first thing he noticed was the light. It pierced through his eyes like barbed spears. It burned like thousands of forge fires. It ached like like hell. He closed his eyes again, firmly, but it didn't stop the light. It was still there, burning into his brain and making his head pound fiercely. He felt like a drum that had been stuck through with arrows after being played all night.

It took him a while to realize that he had been drunk. _Very _drunk. Light, he hadn't _ever _gotten that drunk on beer alone! He didn't even remember getting into bed. Mat swore as he realized he wore not a stitch under the blankets. It must have been that bloody Queen Tylin. She had probably undressed him, too. Light! He felt his cheeks flaming furiously. Then he swore again when he realized that he wasn't in his bed at the palace. The mattress was rough and scratchy. Mat felt a vague presence and heard a long sigh as someone shifted opposite him. He rolled over cautiously and gaped at the woman next to him. It was Birgitte. He almost screamed, but not a sound came out. Besides, the effort made his head hurt. He wanted nothing more than just lay down, close his eyes, and forget about Birgitte. But his memory was beginning to come back, and heat crept into his cheeks.

He felt like an utter idiot. Birgitte was his friend, not…a lover, or something. It was indecent. Light! He couldn't believe himself. And the dice were still there, pounding around full force and not helping his headache. He scowled and rubbed at his temples before slowly wrapping the sheet around himself and starting to swing out of bed. Maybe he could get dressed and out of the room before Birgitte woke up. Maybe she wouldn't remember anything. Maybe he could escape the embarrassment of this.

That was a lot of maybes.

Mat swore a couple times, under his breath. He looked around the room for his clothes and found them on the floor, in a heap with Birgitte's. Light, how drunk had they been? He flushed with embarrassment. He would remember this next time he was tempted to get drunk. Well, maybe not. But he hoped he would.

The sheet pulled taut as he attempted to edge over to the pile of clothes. Mat swore. He was going to have to release it. Normally he wasn't modest, but since Tylin – the bloody woman was as immodest as one hundred tavern maids – he had suddenly gained a sense of modesty. And he _really _didn't need any more embarrassment right now. Slowly, he released the sheet, bolted over to the pile of clothes, and yanked on his breeches faster than he ever had. It was several moments before he realized that they were on backwards. He started to yank them off again, but Birgitte stirred with a small noise and turned over. Mat froze. When she did not move again, he began to move again, more slowly.

"Blood and bloody ashes," he muttered several times. He pulled them off carefully, turned them around, and had them halfway on when he realized that Birgitte's eyes were open, and she was staring straight at him, her eyes still bleary.

He hadn't believed that his cheeks could get so hot without burning up. She was still naked, and the blanket had slipped down as she sat up. He opened his mouth to spew excuses, could think of nothing to say, and closed it again. "Good morning," he muttered at last, turning around and pulling his breeches the rest of the way on. He could feel Birgitte staring at him. He turned around finally, grateful to see that she had pulled the blankets up again. She stared at him for a few more seconds, then let her head fall back on the pillow.

"My head," she moaned. "I need a drink."

"It won't help," said Mat, trying to keep his voice casual.

Birgitte glanced at him, not sitting up. "Of water. How drunk were we?"

Mat winced at the similarity to his own thoughts. "Fairly," he said lightly, hoping to keep the embarrassment out of his voice, but his face gave his mortification away.

Birgitte moaned again. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered.

Mat felt his face burning up, but now he felt guilty as well as mortified. "Look, Birgitte. I'm sorry. It didn't mean anything… I was stupid, and…well…we're just friends, right?"

Birgitte muttered something.

"What?" Mat asked.

"Wasn't just you," she said more clearly. "Friends. Sure." For some reason, she seemed to be voicing the doubt that Mat felt. "Turn around, okay? I need to get dressed. And get some water. I should remember what being hungover feels like, but I've never felt this bad before."

Mat turned around obligingly and pulled his shirt on over his head. He tried to ignore the sounds of Birgitte dressing, but it was all too hard to forget how pretty Birgitte had looked with her clothes off. He flushed. "Light, man! Keep your head out of the pigsty," he muttered.

"What's that?" Birgitte called.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Are you decent yet?"

"Go ahead and turn around, Mat."

He did so and just as quickly wheeled again. Her shirt was still hanging open generously. She laughed. "Light, don't do that to me, Birgitte. I'm embarrassed enough as it is." He practically heard her smile.

"All right, I'm dressed."

"Really?" Mat turned around slowly and was relived to see Birgitte fully clothed. "I'd better get back to the palace. Nynaeve and Elayne are probably tearing the place down looking for me." He smiled slightly. "I'm joking. They probably haven't even – what's the matter?" Birgitte's face was ashen suddenly.

"Elayne!" she choked. "The bond – what did she think I was – I have to go." She hastened to the door. She reached out to open it and stopped as someone knocked. _Very _firmly.

"Dammit," Mat muttered. He'd forgotten all about Elayne and the bond. In fact, he'd forgotten almost everything. He thought of Elayne's face and her nose always in the air. His face went as pale as Birgitte's, he was certain. "Hide me," he moaned.

"Get under the bed," Birgitte hissed urgently. "Quick! Oh, what on _earth _am I going to say?"

"Well, think of something quickly," Mat moaned, feeling slightly nauseous. "Just say you were drunk and leave it at that. And don't mention me," he pleaded. "I'm not here."

"Definitely not," muttered Birgitte, fiddling with her hair. "I should have this braided. Ah well. No time for that."

"Thanks, Birgitte," Mat muttered. Birgitte straightened her clothes, and he saw her shoot him a look of pleading. He felt extremely sympathetic, but glad that it wasn't him.

"Birgitte, I know you're in there!" shouted Elayne's muffled voice. "Come out right now or I'll –"

Birgitte took a deep breath and opened the door. Elayne's fists were raised, and it took her a moment to realize that the door was open and Birgitte was standing there. Just Elayne, thankfully. If Nynaeve had been there too, Mat would have feared for Birgitte's life. Elayne marched inside, hands on fists, squaring off with her Warder. "How _dare _you!" she almost shrieked. "How _dare _you get drunk, and then, then, have – do – _that _with a man. You had me acting like a total fool, blushing and falling all over myself, and tipsy besides. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I got drunk and did some stupid stuff," Birgitte muttered, her cheeks reddening. "Now stop shouting, okay? I've got a headache."

Elayne looked darkly around the room. "Where is…_he_?" she said in tones as though speaking of a murderer. Mat winced and cowered deeper under the bed.

Birgitte shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and succeeding better than Mat himself could have. "Dunno. He wasn't here when I woke up. I don't even remember who he was." _Thank you, Birgitte,_ Mat thought gratefully as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Elayne scrutinized her Warder for several more moments before seeming to accept this explanation. "Fine. Come back to the Palace with me. Have you paid for this room? No? I thought as much. Well, I've got money. At least let me give you Healing for your head. Light, you're giving _me _a headache." She scowled, seizing Birgitte's head – none to gently. Birgitte shuddered and swayed slightly. Elayne didn't even look at her, snatching the hat that had fallen off as she entered and stalking out of the room. Birgitte relaxed slightly and waited several moments after she disappeared.

"Okay, I think she's gone," Birgitte muttered to Mat. He climbed warily out from under the bed. The dice were still rolling, and his head was still pounding. "I'd better go," said Birgitte, grabbing her bow. "Elayne is angry enough at me without adding tardiness to my list of crimes."

Suddenly, she walked over to him and kissed him firmly, then walked away. "See you later, Matrim Cauthon."

Mat flushed at her kiss, and even harder at his full name. Almost no one called him that anymore. He was thoroughly confused now. "Never again, right, Brigitte?" he called after her, not sure what he hoped for as an answer.

"Certainly not," Birgitte said, almost too lightly. "Although," she said, hesitating at the doorframe. "I must say, you look even better than Gaidal did with his clothes off." She ducked the shoe he threw at her and hurried out the door and downstairs. He waited until he was sure she was gone before retrieving the shoes and flopping down on the bed, putting his head in his hands.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered, and sat there for a long time, attempting to sort out his feelings futilely until he shut off all thoughts of Birgitte with a bucket of water that also help his headache. He walked out of the hotel the back way, ducking through the kitchen and a surprised gaggle of maids, wearing his hat low, his black scarf firmly tied around his neck and the foxhead beneath his shirt. He tried to keep his thoughts on the absent Bowl of Winds, but Birgitte was still there, laughing at him in the back of his head and wearing not a stitch.


	2. Predations

_A/N: Well. I thought this would be a oneshot, but it's too long. So I have dubbed it a twoshot or threeshot. We'll see how many chapters it turns out to be. Well, here's chapter two, hot off the press! _

Over the next several days, Mat found himself feeling like two females were preying on him.

Of course, there was Tylin, always peering over his shoulder and pouncing on him when he least expected it. The only way to get away from her was to leave the palace – and sometimes she wasn't deterred, even then. He still had nightmares about those pink ribbons occasionally. But now Birgitte was there, too. Whenever Tylin wasn't harassing him, it was Birgitte, albeit not quite as intensely. When she wasn't there physically, she was crouched in the back of his head, laughing at him. He didn't quite know what she was laughing about, but it was definitely confusing.

And sometimes, she would accost him in the halls, brushing by him closely in a way that made his skin tingle, looking at him with that same predatory glint in her eyes that Tylin always had. Sometimes she would even seize him and kiss him fiercely. He hadn't known that _any _woman could kiss that well. She seemed to be tangling his feelings up into a knotted mess, just like a kitten playing with yarn. He had thought that that was his job, but now both Tylin and Birgitte were proving him wrong.

That was disconcerting, to say the least.

He had decided quite firmly that he did not like being chased. _He _would be the one doing the chasing, from now on, no matter what any bloody woman thought.

Just as soon as he got away from Altara.

_Bloody woman, _he scowled as he stalked through the halls, his stomach grumbling. But he wasn't interested in getting his bottom pinched by going to the kitchens. _Bloody women, _he expanded. Every woman was a thicket of brambles, and he cursed himself for a Light blinded fool for _ever _getting involved with them.

He was beginning to feel that if he _ever _got away from Altara, he would have a scowl permanently affixed to his face and pink ribbons attached to his –

He swore as he ran into a pole. He must have been truly lost in thought to do something that stupid. He swore a couple more times for good measure as he realized his nose was going to swell, until he heard an all too familiar voice behind him, jauntily teasing him.

"You ought to clean your mouth out, Matrim Cauthon," Birgitte commented, peering over his shoulder. "And get some Healing for that nose of yours."

"You're one to talk about language," Mat grumbled, not meeting her eyes. "You swear more than anyone I know. And you know I wouldn't let an Aes Sedai near me. You more than anyone. And don't call me that. My name is Mat. Just Mat."

"And yet," Birgitte shot back dryly. "I find you tailing after Elayne and Nynaeve like a lovesick puppy –"

"I am _not _lovesick for Elayne _or _Nynaeve. Or _anyone, _for that matter." Birgitte stomped firmly on the end of his sentence and trampled right over him.

"And giving her new curses everyday. If you don't clean up your language around her, she'll be talking like a merchant's guard pretty soon."

"I hardly even swear around her," Mat protested, but Birgitte wasn't done.

"If you're not here for Elayne or Nynaeve, who _are _you here for?" she fluttered her eyelashes suggestively at him. Mat winced.

"Will you stop that?" he grumbled. "Half the time I don't know if you're a friend or some sort of lover, and the other half you're almost as bad a bloody Queen bloody Tylin." He emphasized the curses especially for Birgitte's benefit. He would not change for anyone! Not Tylin, or Elayne, or Nynaeve, and especially not Birgitte.

But Mat couldn't shake the feeling that he had already changed, and far beyond redemption.

Birgitte glanced at him. "Can't I be both?" she asked, and her tone was so serious that Mat was sure she was joking. He laughed until he realized that she still looked solemn.

"I thought we were just friends? Light, Birgitte, I don't even know _what _to think about you anymore." Mat felt vaguely disgusted with himself. His tone sounded pleading, even to his own ears.

Birgitte laughed slightly, her eyes full of something that made Mat feel vaguely uncomfortable. "Friends. One night can change many things, Matrim Cauthon."

"Mat," Mat corrected, feeling a slight prick of irritation, but also of uncertainty. "I thought I told you it would never happen again. Light, Birgitte, I can't. You're a friend. _Just _a friend. I _don't _love you. Light, you don't _love _me, do you? Plus, if I even attempt to make any moves on you, bloody Queen Tylin will kill me."

Birgitte's hand reached out and touched the medallion hanging visibly between his open shirt strings. "Who says you have to make the moves?" she said, and pushed him back slightly against the pole. "I'm just as capable as you, Matrim Cauthon." With that, she turned and walked away, in a sinuously swaying manner that made Mat notice her hips as he never had before. He gulped.

"Mat," he protested weakly, but she was already beyond hearing. Birgitte had _definitely _been spending too much time with the Sea Folk. He had to get out of Ebou Dar, quickly, before _all _the women went totally mad.

But as he walked briskly down the hallway to the kitchens, having made up his mind to suffer a bottom pinch or two if it meant getting something to eat, he found himself pondering Birgitte's words, and wondering if he could get away with spending another night with her. Maybe Tylin wouldn't notice. Maybe.

Mat didn't like maybes.

He shook his head. He didn't even like Birgitte like that! He didn't!

Light, did he?

Did he?

* * *

That night, Mat found himself, for once, left alone by both of the women that had been tormenting him. But he was not left alone, not really. Birgitte was still there, lurking in the back of his treacherous mind. She was laughing even harder now. At him. He nearly swore, then stopped himself, remembering that Birgitte didn't like him swearing. Then he realized what he had thought, and swore five of the worst oaths he knew, just to prove that he wasn't going to clean his mouth out for any woman, no matter _how _good she looked.

He found himself comparing Tylin and Birgitte, and when he realized what he was doing, he quickly cut himself off. He was bored. He didn't particularly miss Tylin, but Birgitte's presence was one he would have liked.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? He wished he didn't feel so tired.

He lowered his head into his hands and muttered something about a drink. The thing was, since…that night, he had almost lost his taste for ale, and that left only wine. Wine was not nearly as fun to get drunk on. He scowled, in a very bad mood, now. "Stupid woman," he muttered, not sure if he meant Birgitte or Tylin.

"That wouldn't be me, would it?" Birgitte's voice came sweetly from the doorway. Mat stood up. His shirt and coat hung loosely open. Where had all this modesty come from? He wished it would go away, though. It caused nothing but bother.

"Light, woman, would you stop doing that?" Mat demanded. "It's driving me crazy!"

"That's why I do it, Matrim." Birgitte said dryly, swaying over to him and drawing a finger along his cheek. "Until I prove to you that you don't always have to be in control, I will not stop."

"You sound like Tylin," he grumbled, swatting her hand down. "I'm already convinced. Too convinced, actually."

"I don't believe it," Birgitte said stoutly. Suddenly, she pounced. She pinned his arms to his sides and knocked him back on the bed. She managed to pull off his coat and shirt and had his breeches halfway off when Mat managed to kick her off with an effort. She smiled charmingly at him. Her shirt was slipping off one shoulder. She didn't seem to notice, or care.

"Look," he said. "I don't know what you're after, but I'll give it to you as long as you _leave me alone._"

"Are you sure you want to promise that?" Birgitte said, her eyes glinting dangerously.

Mat noted the predatory glint in her eyes and the way her hands were creeping toward her dress catch. He shook his head vigorously. _Light!_ The woman had as little modesty as Tylin. Maybe they had been having conversations. He could just picture them sipping tea and discussing how to harass bloody Matrim flaming Cauthon. He scowled. "Anything but _that._" He tried to sound nonchalant, but he could feel his cheeks flaming. "Anything that doesn't directly involved you and me," he amended hastily.

Birgitte didn't look disappointed. "Well, I'm sure I can convince you to amend those clauses." She turned toward the door. "I'll just tell the kitchen maids not to –"

Mat yelped. "Light! Are you two trying to starve me? Have you been discussing how to harass me with Tylin, lately? Because you seem to be using the same tactics."

Birgitte turned to look at him. "No, I haven't talked with Tylin. But perhaps I should remind her how good I am with a bow. I do not mean to let her have you."

"I'm not a toy or something," Mat muttered. "Whatever you seem to think. You and Tylin. Light, Birgitte, I thought we were friends. _Just _friends."

"As I said before, one night can change many things." Birgitte smiled coyly at him before leaving.

"You didn't seem to be so casual about the whole thing a few days ago," Mat grumbled to where she had been. "It was one night. Light, _one _night. Why do women always have to make such a big mess out of everything?"

But he found himself remembering the feel of her skin and the way she had danced with him, so close and intimate. No one had danced with him like that before. Like they loved him.

He shook his head and was tempted to dunk himself in a bucket of water. He was acting like a flaming idiot. Over a woman who was his friend. Only his friend.

But he couldn't help remembering every detail of their night together, and now he didn't always blush. The naked Birgitte in his head doubled over laughing, pointing her finger at him. "Oh, shut up," he muttered, and fulfilled his desire to dunk his head in a bucket of water.

It didn't help though. She was still there, and laughing harder than ever.


	3. Blind Eye

_A/N: Woot. THE LAST CHAPTER. DUH, DUH, DUH, DUH. Review, por un favor?_

Mat's dire prediction that all the women were going mad was proved only a couple days later, when he was approached by Elayne and Nynaeve, both looking very angry, with a stern Aviendha peering over their shoulders. They balked at the entrance to his room, and she gave them a gentle push forward. Gentle, but still very insistent.

Mat saw all this through very bleary eyes, as he had an enormous hangover at the time, and was therefore wallowing in misery on his bed, hat pulled over his eyes so he could see very little. "Close the door," he muttered blearily. The inn was well lit, unfortunately, and right now it seemed that light was the worst sort of torture that he could imagine. Nynaeve scowled disapprovingly at him – drunkenness and laziness were only two of the things she couldn't tolerate in a man, and quite possibly the worst flaws. She muttered something that he thought contained the words, "city," "addled his brains," and "blatant corruption." Mat couldn't help laughing harshly, then regretted it, punctuating it with a small moan. Now Nynaeve simply looked satisfied as Aviendha closed the door quietly.

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of "I told you so," but Elayne nudged her – actually, it was more a shove and less of a nudge – and Nynaeve cleared her throat and changed what she had been about to say. "I…could…Heal you…if you want." The words were forced out of her, clearly. Mat shook his head.

"No, thanks," he said, as politely as he could manage in his current state of misery. "So if you're here to gloat, you might as well leave now. I am not in a very sociable mood this morning."

Elayne laughed suddenly. Nynaeve and Aviendha looked at her, and she flushed a bright red while pretending to ignore them. "Well, actually…" she said, rather hesitantly. "We came because…we wanted to…apologize."

Mat stared at them. They were going mental! They really should get moving on finding this Bowl of Winds, before they turned into a bunch of meek, mild mannered ladies. Not that that would be so bad, actually. It was just that he couldn't imagine Nynaeve very well with her hands folded delicately in her lap. He had to stifle a laugh.

"For our…behavior…at the Stone of Tear. You…rescued us…and we did not show proper gratitude…for your…help." Elayne continued. "And thank you…belatedly…for your aid on this…expedition."

Nynaeve looked as though she had swallowed a large prune. A very overripe prune. Mat was just short of gaping at Elayne. He had never expected to hear the words of an apology, however forced, from Elayne. Of all people, Elayne least of all. Except maybe Nynaeve. "Oh." He said, rather at a loss. "Well. You're welcome, I guess. It was nothing, really."

To his surprise, Elayne simply looked very annoyed. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. Had he said something wrong? Now he was just confused. After a couple moments of silence, Elayne turned to Nynaeve and gave her a fierce glare. Mat was glad he was not the recipient of that stare. Nynaeve looked at the floor and muttered something that contained the words "won't," "apologize," and "arrogant." Only a moment later, she let out a small yelp and jumped, rubbing her bottom and glaring right back at a stolid, angry Elayne. They stared at each other, bristling like a pair of strange cats. Mat felt thoroughly ignored. "Look," he stared to say. "Can you take this outside? I'm trying to sleep," but Nynaeve looked down and scuffed the floor, suddenly looking ashamed.

"I'm sorry too," she muttered grudgingly. "For my…behavior."

Mat looked from one to the other. Their faces were so serious, and the idea of this encounter so ridiculous, that he simply had to laugh. However, when he did so, the three women shot him such glares as if he had goosed each and every one of them. _Women. _Birgitte, Nynaeve, Elayne…none of them made any sense.

"That is not all," Elayne added, her voice suddenly very cold as she gazed sternly at him, as if he were an ignorant and foolish little boy. "We have decided to promise that we will not leave the Palace without your knowledge, that we will listen to your…_suggestions…_and follow them as appropriate, and…" she sighed, "allow you to appoint us an escort of suitable size." Nynaeve fidgeted nonstop as Elayne was speaking, and Mat got the impression that Elayne might be proposing this compromise without have checked with Nynaeve first.

"Not that this means you may give us orders. We are not yours to command," Nynaeve added sharply, with a frigid glance at Elayne.

A jolt of mischief prompted Mat to smile slightly and ask the pair of irritated women before him, "Well, what about you, Nynaeve? I haven't heard any promises from you."

Nynaeve looked as though she would turn purple. The foxhead on his chest went cold for a moment, then returned to normal temperature. She only looked more annoyed at having forgotten his protection. Mat decided not to test his boundaries even further. She might not be able to hit him directly, but the water pitcher was heavy enough to create considerable damage. Besides, Aviendha, whom had previously looked pleased, was glaring at him with equal force as the other two.

"Right then," he said. "So you'll let me know before you leave the palace? And listen when I offer ideas?" There was a moment's hesitation, then both women nodded. Aviendha looked approving again. "And an escort. I suggest…six of my men, close to you when you leave the palace?"

Nynaeve spluttered. "Six? One at most!"

"Three," Mat haggled, and after a moment and a nudge from Elayne, Nynaeve nodded. Grudgingly. "Not including me, of course," Mat added. It was worth it, just to see the look of surprise on all three women's faces. He almost laughed, but he suspected that the experience of spending his time with these three women would not be pleasant.

"Good, then," he said. "Now, will you please get out of my room? I have a terrible headache, and I need some sleep." The women left with a few final mutters out of Nynaeve, and Mat relaxed again. _Very strange, _he decided. _Yes, most definitely. I never thought I'd see the day where the two haughtiest women I know lower themselves to apologize to _me.

"Feeling well, Master Cauthon?" purred a voice from the doorway that had just been vacated. Mat moaned slightly. Whether it was Tylin, or Birgitte, he needed to get out of Altara, no matter what the dubious blessings of its affects on the women were. There were far too many negatives for his taste.

Birgitte sat down on the edge of his bed and leered at him. He flinched away from the hand she laid on his forehead. "Aw, is wickle Mattie feeling okay?" she said, grinning at his pained grimace.

"Get out," he muttered. "Just…leave."

She put on an affronted expression. "What? Will you just drive me away without even a hello? I am so dearly fond of you."

"How is it that you managed to make all this out of one stupid night?" he grumbled.

Her smile vanished. "Mat, I insist that you not persist in this silly notion that I am somehow making too much out of one night. I don't think I am being unreasonable at all."

"I was drunk, for Light's sake!" he protested, and winced. "Please don't make me shout," he pleaded. "My head hurts like anything. I'm not up for this right now."

"If I decide you are up to it, you are," Birgitte said firmly. "And I think that we need to talk. _Now,_" she added as Mat opened his mouth to protest. "I was drunk as well, but you don't hear me complaining, do you? I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'd have to be blind as you are not to see what's right in front of my nose, you stubborn, block-headed fool."

Mat blinked at her. "What do you mean?" he asked stupidly.

She sighed. "Mat, you can be awfully thick-headed at times. Let me spell it out for you. I love you. There, is that simple enough for you?"

His mouth dropped open and he stared at her, scrambling for words. "You can't be serious!" he explained, half hoping that she would laugh and say it was all a joke, half dreading it.

Birgitte scowled at him. "Don't be stupid. Let me show you just how serious I am about this." She pulled him over off the bed, pinioned his arms to his sides, and kissed him fiercely as she unbuttoned his shirt with one free hand. "You Light burned idiot," she breathed. "I can't believe it took you so long to notice."

Mat was feebly trying to push the persistent Birgitte away as she undressed him as easily as if he had been no more than a paper doll. When she finished with him, she pushed him back onto the bed and held him down with her knee on his chest as she pulled off her shirt. "Sometimes…you have to spell things out for me," he gasped under the weight of Birgitte's leg. He was unable to take his eyes off of her, and didn't even notice that he had stopped pretending to struggle.

She cast off the last of her garments and pulled him up into another fierce kiss. "Of course," she breathed. "You're a man. Simple concepts are difficult for you. You understand physicality much better."

He pretty much lost track of things after that.

Later, he lay on his back on the bed, staring moodily up at the ceiling and thinking. Somehow, he couldn't manage to summon any regrets about his actions. In fact, he felt positively delirious with – relief? Happiness? It was difficult to say, but it _was _a pleasant feeling.

_What about the Daughter of the Nine Moons? _A small part of him asked. _The one you're supposed to marry?_

"Oh, Light burn the Aelfinn and their Light burned prophecies," he muttered. "I'll do what I want to."

Birgitte rolled over next to him, putting a protective arm around his chest. "What was that, dear?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing, dear," he whispered as he kissed the hollow of her neck. "Nothing at all."


End file.
